


Reconnecting

by weakinteraction



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Comfort Sex, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Ignores Dark Phoenix, Multi, Oral Sex, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 08:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: Jean and Scott rescue Peter from a trap set for mutants. It will take him some time to recover.





	Reconnecting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



> Many thanks to salazarastark for helpful beta-ing.

Jean looked out at the lake: it looked tranquil, barely a ripple on its surface. Yet in its depths was a whole miniature ecosystem, creatures from microscopic phytoplankton to large-bellied amphibians carving out their existences. Just like a human mind, what she could see on the surface did not truly reflect everything that was going on.

"What are you thinking about?" Scott asked.

"Nothing," Jean said, shaking her head.

"This was supposed to be fun," Scott said. They'd been planning to get out into the grounds together to relax for days now, but one thing after another kept piling up.

"It was going to be a lot of fun," Peter said. Jean knew that he had probably been hoping they'd recreate that time, that felt like lifetimes ago, that they'd made love on the grass, but she also knew that Scott's sense of propriety would have stopped him from doing anything where they might get caught by the students. "But instead, you're brooding."

"I am not 'brooding'," Jean said. "I'm _contemplating_." She turned to look at him directly. "It's completely different."

"We all have lessons that go badly," Scott said.

"Even me," Peter said.

"Especially him," Scott put in.

It was only a handful of years since she and Scott had graduated, since Professor Xavier had put the two of them and a number of their classmates in charge of classes themselves, made Scott the leader of the X-Men for their missions. At first, they had all felt utterly unqualified, but they had soon realised that with the ongoing explosion in the mutant population, there was no other choice -- the next generation needed people who could do for them what .

Peter, on the other hand, had only assimilated slowly into both the faculty and the team. He had come and gone from the campus many times -- many more, once you factored in how fast he could leave and return if he wanted to -- and helped out in many tight spots, sometimes "sticking around for a while", sometimes absenting himself again almost immediately, before finally deciding to make his home permanently. Jean liked to think that she and Scott had had something to do with that decision.

"Nothing went wrong this morning," she said finally, when she realised they were still waiting for her to answer. It was true; the problem was that nothing had really gone right either.

"I know what will cheer you up," said Peter.

"I don't--" Jean began, but gave up as he sped away.

"What's he doing?"

"No idea," Jean said. "You know his mind's just a blur to me when he's like this."

A moment later, he was back, with ice cream. He must have slowed down just long enough to buy it. At least, she hoped he'd bought it. Semi-reluctantly, Jean took a lick.

"Hey!" Scott said. "Don't I get anything?"

Peter sped away again.

But this time, he didn't come back.

"He's not gone somewhere ridiculous to get me some sort of gag gift, has he? Ice from a Canadian glacier or--"

Whatever Scott said next was drowned out as the whole world collapsed into excruciating pain. Jean could feel herself falling, feel Scott catching her, even as she felt overwhelmed by the other sensations: Peter's sensations. He was trapped, in pain.

She had to help him. They had to help him. But first she would have to master the pain. Drawing on all her mental reserves, she struggled to her feet, Scott supporting her.

"Peter's in trouble," she said. "Come on, quickly." She clasped Scott's hand and half-ran, half-stumbled towards the mansion's parking lot.

Scott helped her into his car before getting in himself. As he turned the key in the ignition, he said, "Why has he stopped?"

"He _hasn't_ ," Jean said through gritted teeth.

"But I thought you couldn't read him when--"

"I _shouldn't_ be able to. It's all just a blur. But there's only one thought in his mind, repeating itself over and over, that's why I can sense it. For God's sake, Scott, just drive!" Jean said.

"Which way? Where is he?"

Jean touched her fingers to her temples, the outwardly visible gesture a way of focusing her inward concentration further still. She could _do_ this.

"Should we get the professor?" Scott asked. "Use Cerebro?"

Jean flicked her eyes open again, pointed off to the left. "That way."

"How far?"

"I don't know," Jean said. She focused again. "A few miles."

Scott swung the car around through a 180-degree turn and started back in the opposite direction. Even with the seemingly endless screaming coming from Peter's mind, she could feel on the surface of Scott's thoughts the careful planning of the best route to take, almost see the map in his head.

They drove, Jean with her eyes shut, occasionally calling out more precise directions as they got closer. She could feel Scott's grim determination to get there as quickly as she could.

It was only later that Scott told her what that determination had entailed: that she had been better off with her eyes closed, as he had run several stop lights and driven a considerable portion of the way on the wrong side of the road. And that she had been moaning, as though in pain herself, the whole way through. She hadn't realised.

"Stop here!" she shouted out. Only as she opened her eyes did she see that they were on the edge of town, where the woods began. Scott swerved off the road and stopped rather than parked on the verge. Jean jumped out and Scott came around to follow her. "This way, come on!"

She ran on ahead, aware of Scott behind her, but much more so of Peter ahead. It felt as though there was such a huge distance still to cover to reach him. The sort of distance Peter himself could have covered in the blink of an eye, of course.

Eventually, they found him, in what looked like a cage, made of white bars that glowed faintly in a pulsing rhythm. Peter was inside, Jean was sure of it, but he looked insubstantial, moving so fast in the confined space that he appeared as a succession of blurred after-images.

"Why doesn't he stop?" Scott asked. "He can see that we're here ... Peter, can you hear me? You need to slow down, tell us what's going on."

"I don't think he can," Jean said. "I think that thing is forcing him to stay that way."

"We need to destroy it." Scott put his finger to the trigger mechanism on his glasses.

Jean put her hand over his. "We need to do it without hurting him," she said. "Let me try."

She reached out with her mind, trying to prise the bars apart with telekinesis. It took a supreme effort of will to get even one away from the structure, and as soon as it was removed, it snapped back into place as though it were a lump of metal in a powerful magnetic field. For a moment, she thought of Peter's father. Was he behind this? She hoped not. And besides, she reasoned, whatever strange material they were made out of probably wasn't metal at all.

"I'll get them away, then you blast them!"

Scott nodded, ready to disintegrate them as soon as they were safely away from Peter. Jean focused again on the part she had already removed, and as it worked its way free again, flung it into the air. Scott let rip, and it shattered into tiny pieces that rained down, reflecting the ruby red light as they did.

Again and again, Jean pulled a bar from the cage with her mind and flung it away -- into the air, onto the forest floor, up against the trunk of a tree. Scott destroyed them all, though sometimes they fought so hard against her control that he needed multiple shots.

Eventually, though, one side of the trap, or whatever it was, was entirely gone.

Scott rushed forwards to catch Peter as he fell to the floor, the effect finally broken.

* * *

They stood on either side of the bed in which Peter lay, comatose, watching as Hank and Professor Xavier attended to him.

"Who built that thing? How did it even manage to trap him?" Scott asked.

"We don't know."

"Actually, Charles, I have a theory, about the 'how' part, at least. It must have worked as a power suppressor to be able to stop Peter in the first place. But then it reversed the effect."

"So that he couldn't switch off his power?" Jean asked.

"Precisely," Hank said.

"We've never come across anything like that before," Scott pointed out.

"And we come across it just a few miles from here?" Jean added. "That's not a coincidence. Maybe they didn't expect to catch Peter, but they weren't round here by chance."

"You didn't see anyone?" the Professor asked.

"They must have fled when they heard us coming," Scott said. "We were on a rescue mission, not a stealth one."

Jean was troubled, though -- she hadn't sensed anyone, human or mutant, as they'd approached. Had she just been so focused on finding Peter, or had his pain been too great in her mind? Or did this new adversary have a way of blocking her ability to detect them?

"We'll figure it out," Hank said, but Jean didn't think he sounded as reassuring as he intended.

"What about Peter?" asked Scott.

"He'll recover," Hank said.

"Physically," the Professor added. "But his mental recovery may be more difficult. He endured ... unimaginable torment."

Jean nodded. "How long did it take us to get to him?" she asked Scott.

"From the moment you first told me he was in trouble?" Scott said. "About quarter of an hour, I guess."

"From our point of view," Jean said. "But that thing was maxing out his powers. He must have been going at least a thousand times faster."

"I don't think we've established an upper bound on Peter's ability," Hank said quietly as the full implications sunk in for him.

It took Scott just a little longer. "So that's ... over a week, trapped in there, from his point of view. Or perhaps much more."

"Quite apart from the specific physiological effects on his muscles and cardiovascular system, he's ... simply _exhausted_ ," the Professor said. "He needs time."

* * *

They took it in shifts to look after him, when they weren't teaching or in meetings planning how to respond to the new threat. It was when Scott was there when he first opened his eyes. Jean was just explaining to her class about DNA methylation when she felt a sudden surge of fierce joy radiate through her mind. Rapidly setting the students some self-study about different pathways, she raced down the corridors.

Peter was only barely awake. But it was enough, to see his eyes open, to hear him crack weak jokes, to feel his mind, awake again.

For several days more, Peter slept most of the time. That was when the dreams started. One way or another, they all revolved around the feeling of being trapped. But was that her own mind processing the experience, or psychic bleedthrough from Peter? When she woke, once Scott had held her until she was calm again, she would reach out to Peter's mind, here in the infirmary, but feel nothing. But was that because he was sleeping soundly, or because the nightmare had passed from him even as it woke her?

* * *

They finally had a lead. Someone linked to Trask and Stryker was in the area, it transpired. They had suspected for a while that the cage that had somehow managed to catch the fastest person on Earth was a new application of Sentinel tech, but now it was confirmed.

Jean listened as the Professor explained the mission assignments. Noticed the obvious: that she and Scott weren't included.

"Do you have everything you need, Ororo?" Xavier asked.

Storm looked at them both for a long time. Jean could tell that she felt torn, but equally that the Professor had prepared her for this. Storm nodded, and left after the team. Now there was only her, Scott, the Professor and Hank.

"We need to find whoever did this," Scott said. "If there are more of these devices--"

"Imagine if one were to be used in a populated area," Jean said. "Making someone lose control of their powers ... Imagine if it had been me."

"Or me," Scott said, before adding ruefully, "Not that I can really control my optic blasts at any time ..."

"You're right," Professor Xavier said. "The X-Men need to get to the bottom of this. And that's precisely what they're going to do."

" _We_ are X-Men," Scott said.

"You told me just the other day that you thought Storm should get more leadership experience. You told me that she was ready."

"And she is. Not for something as critical as this," Scott said. "Not--"

"Go on," the professor said. But Jean could read the thought in Scott's mind just as easily as he could, and knew just as well that Scott would never admit it out loud.

"I can't believe you're doing this," was all Scott said in the end.

"Your stake is ... too personal. We need to investigate, yes, we need to put a stop to whatever this is, whoever is doing it. But you, you would be looking for revenge. Both of you." He turned his keen stare on Jean and she quailed momentarily under the feeling of him in her mind, rummaging through the subconscious fantasies she was barely aware of herself, of visiting the pain that had been inflicted on Peter back on his tormentors a thousandfold.

"Besides," Hank said, smiling. "Who better than the two of you to help Peter recover?"

* * *

They weren't quite prepared for Peter's response when they told him what had happened.

"He benched you?" A great peal of laughter, followed by a series of racking coughs as his ribcage suffered the effects of the hilarity. "Because of me? Aw, you two really do care after all."

"Don't say that," Jean said. "You know--"

"And I know that you know that I know," Peter said, tapping the side of his head. He turned to Scott. " _You'll_ have to take it on trust, of course."

Scott smiled, refusing to rise to the bait. But in his mind, Jean could read the concern, a concern that mirrored her own: was this the Peter they had known, or was he putting on a facade to mask the pain?

Peter's thoughts were like the lake: placid on the surface, but impossible even for her to tell what lay beneath. But this was the most animated they had seen him since the accident. Hank had said that his new treatments were working, but she hadn't expected them to have made such a rapid difference.

"So," Peter said. "You two are going to have to be just as bored as me while the others fix everything." More jokes. "I can give you the tour." He gestured upwards. "This is the amazing view of the ceiling. While over there we have the empty beds ..."

Jean looked at Scott, saw him look back at her. Even without telepathy, they would have been on the same wavelength at this moment. They had both been talking about how empty the bed in their room felt with just the two of them in it.

"How _are_ you feeling?" Scott asked.

"Oh, you know-- Wait." Peter broke into a smile. "You probably shouldn't."

"I'm sure Beast said you were mostly physically recovered by now," Jean said, letting a playful smile twitch across her lips.

"Recovering, I think, Jean," Scott said, mock-serious. Peter gave an overexaggerated look of disappointment. "But he did say we should help him recover."

"Oh, yes," Jean said. "I distinctly remember that part of the conversation."

Peter's eyebrows shot up as Scott placed his hand gently over his crotch. Jean could feel the sudden spike in arousal from both of them like a wave washing over her. She crossed the short distance to the head of the bed, and bent down to kiss Peter, slowly, gently.

Suddenly, she couldn't feel his mind. Then she realised: he had sped up his consciousness to savour everything: her lips, Scott's fingers, now making their way under the loose-fitting clothes he'd been put in. She felt a small stab of jealousy at not being able to have the same sort of experience, even as she felt relief at the sign that Peter was still able -- and willing -- to use his powers for petty reasons. Even as she put extra effort into making the kiss as spectacular as possible.

She was beginning to lose her sense of time -- perhaps she was getting bleedthrough from Peter after all -- when he began kissing back, vigorously. His tongue was only the tiniest bit faster than standard speed -- she could read his mind again -- but what it was doing to the tip of hers would have been enough to put some very specific ideas into her head, even if she hadn't been able to read them in Peter's.

She pulled away. "Are you sure?"

Peter nodded enthusiastically.

As Jean removed her clothes, she watched Scott work Peter's cock free and lower his mouth to it. It was always such a turn on to see the two of them together, how lost in sheer physicality they became. The feedback loop between their minds and hers began to intensify. They had both told her, separately, that just occasionally they had believed that they could feel each other's minds, through her, at moments like this. She wasn't even sure that was possible, but at times like this it seemed as though it should be.

Crossing back to the bed, she swung up and around in one smooth motion, until her pussy was directly over Peter's mouth.

She saw Scott looking, even as he continued to suck Peter's cock. She stretched out her hand and he shuffled backwards, all without removing his mouth. She tried to reach into his pants, but the angles didn't work.

"This is ridiculous," she said. "Go get another bed and wheel it over here."

Scott grinned and did as she asked. Peter let out a slight moan of disappointment as he left, but it became an altogether different type of moan when she lowered herself down to take his cock in her own mouth. Feeling how hard it already was thanks to Scott only served to turn her on more, and Peter seemed to notice, his tongue speeding up just a little more as it vibrated back and forth over her clit.

Scott was back, manoeuvring one of the other gurneys into position next to Peter's. It took him a moment to figure out how to lock its wheels -- his first attempt to get on it ended with him sliding away again -- but soon he was lying next to them, ready to resume what he had been doing.

Jean relinquished Peter's cock to Scott and swung herself round to find his. They had become rather adept at mutual oral sex, though never quite in these circumstances before. It took a little more adjusting to find a comfortable set of angles, but once they had, they quickly brought one another to their climax. It was Peter who came first, into Scott's mouth, although she would barely have been able to tell, so steady was the insistent rhythm Peter was playing on her clit. As her own orgasm approached, her sucking of Scott's cock became frantic, and all too quickly he was coming down her throat as she ground down against Peter, all thought of his recovery temporarily postponed as he finally brought her off.

"So, do you feel better?" Jean asked, once they had disentangled themselves.

"Amazing," Peter said. "Better than better."

She bent down to kiss him, then Scott did the same.

"You'd better get back, though," Peter said. "It's getting late."

"Nonsense," Scott said, as he got up to bring another gurney over, lining it up on the opposite side of Peter to the one he'd lain on while they were fucking. "We'll ask Beast in the morning whether you're well enough to come back to our room," Scott said. "But this will do for now."

It took a while for Jean to get to sleep; the mattress on the gurney was thinner and harder than she liked. The boys fell asleep quickly though, and in the end, it was their delta rhythms lapping against her mind that lulled her to sleep.

And for the first time since the woods, all three of them slept without dreaming.


End file.
